Not Your Ordinary Fairy Tale
by BlindHuntress
Summary: Snow White and the Huntsman epilogue. William POV.


The prince marries the princess, they become King and Queen and live happily ever after. Isn't that how fairy tales were supposed to go?

William pondered this thought often these days. Walking through a castle that was slowly regaining its slate appearance, versus the iron veneer it had worn for so many years, sunlight shone through open windows. Birds sung outside and trees blossomed, their branches weighed down from the sheer number of blossoms.

When he arrived in the great hall, no one was there, but he had already suspected that. As he traveled back down the hall, he paused and following his instincts, looked out one of the windows.

And there they were.

A dress of rose red hugged her lithe frame, her raven black hair hung down her back in an un-kempt mane. They weren't holding hands, but he could tell from the twitch of her fingers, the way they both trembled when the path they were on brought them so close together their shoulders touched.

Didn't the princesses always fall in love with the princes?

When did the Queen ever marry a commoner? Yet, William guessed, this was no ordinary fairy tale. Had a tale ever had a Queen, a princess, as beautiful as she, Snow White?

Although nothing had been said, their lips never publicly pressed together in love's embrace, it was evident to anyone with eyes to see, and ears to hear and brain within their heads that this Queen and her Huntsman were irrevocably in love with each other.

What had done it? William pondered, what had made him the one who had won her heart? His brutish ways, his teasing, his soft-hearted bemoaning at her innocence and stubbornness? Where had gone the grief over that wife he had once had? William felt immediately contrite, he knew Snow White's presence healed all hurts, all ills, how much easier a grief from a soul long passed!

Though his anger and his confusion made him want to spin away and continue on to where his father was surely contemplating similar thoughts, he could not tear his eyes away from the two figures. As the sun set before them, he once again saw their silhouettes tremble from the sheer force of their want as the Huntsman took her hand and led her over a small stream. Yet her eyes were so focused on his, that still her royal slippers moved through the water, him, her only care. Did even the Huntsman notice how fervent her gaze? Or was his own gaze so enraptured, his every nerve focused on her hand in his, that he did not notice?

Their hands did not separate.

William supposed that this was no typical fairy tale. How often was a Queen loved so very much by every soul in her kingdom? How often did a Queen wear a suit of mail and ride into battle with her people? How often had a Queen come back from the dead to save her kingdom from a fate of endless, gray, cold, death? Who else's Queen had survived the Dark Forest? Who else had such a Queen as Snow White? Loved by both commoner and prince, what kingdom would force such a selfless Queen to marry someone she obviously did not love, but was more suited for her station.

William pondered how great her love was for him, the Huntsman. If pressured by her people, would she forsake the throne of her father for love of him? Or would she put aside her wants and take the hand of a friend as her husband, but day and night love the heart of another, dream of the face of a Huntsman? And would not that Huntsman so gallantly understand, and step aside? Or in his grief would he disappear into the Dark Forest with no defenses, and leave their beloved Queen as dead inside as he would become?

His father, the Duke, had arranged with the King the hand of his son to that of the King's daughter. And if Ravenna had never happened, the Huntsman's wife would not be dead, and Snow White and Wiliam would have had their fairy tale ending. Ravenna had happened though, and with her, everything had changed.

Had there not been a day he, William, did not vividly recall the shine of her hazel eyes in the firelight as he and his father had sped away? William supposed he had not lost her when the Huntsman had saved her from the Forest, nor even when he had pressed tear soaked lips to her own in death. No, William supposed it had been at that moment, when he had left her behind an iron gate, left her to the whims of a mad Queen and her perverse brother. Although Snow White had repeatedly absolved him of all guilt, her unwillingness, or inability to return his affections made him believe otherwise. His father was set on making William a King anyway, despite that feeling in both men's chests that it would never come to pass, because William no longer held the hand of the Queen as anything but a friend.

With a pang in his chest, William did not look away as the Huntsman grew too bold and pulled her slight weight to his chest, encased her chin in a massive hand and brought her red lips to his. And she did not pull away, but instead fell into him, her entire body disappearing into his embrace.

William turned away, intent on his father's study. Now more than ever he was sure that if this was a fairy tale, it would be like none other. The Queen would marry a commoner, and a Huntsman would become a King. He supposed this was the only happily ever after he would be able to give her, as the prince to her princess. He had left her when they were children, abandoned her to captivity, now he would relinquish his right to her hand, and leave her to the freedom and love of her heart's desire.

"And they lived happily ever after," William whispered, disappearing into the shadows of the castle, "The end."


End file.
